


Jurassic Warehouse (Difficulties in Dinosaur Discipline)

by hibernate



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Dinosaurs, F/F, Hijinks & Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 07:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibernate/pseuds/hibernate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are dinosaurs in the Warehouse, and Myka is the only one who seems to understand that this is <i>serious</i>. (There may also be some feelings in trees.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jurassic Warehouse (Difficulties in Dinosaur Discipline)

**Author's Note:**

> Look, dinosaur fic is a totally legitimate fic genre. Don't judge me. 
> 
> **Spoilers for season 3**. Thanks to commoncomitatus for the awesome beta! ♥

"I don't know what you three did," Claudia says, when she rounds the aisle and sprints up to them, beaming like it's her birthday, "but this is officially the coolest thing ever."

Myka sighs, pushing the hard-hat down more firmly on her head, her other hand clutching her clipboard. "Ask _him_."

"Yeah!" Pete says, looking approximately five years old as he grins at Claudia. He clears his throat, putting on a very serious fake accent as he continues: "Agent Bering, Agent Wells, my dear Agent Donovan. Welcome to Jurassic Warehouse."

The huge, long-necked dinosaur in front of them sniffs loudly at the top shelves, and Myka winces when it opens its mouth to chuck down a handful of Artifacts.

That's probably going to be a problem.

 

*

 

The thing is, they already have more than enough to deal with.

Dinosaurs in the Warehouse - just one more thing on the list of many, many, _many_ things that have gone spectacularly wrong recently, not least of all Walter Sykes putting an Artifact bomb in the Warehouse and nearly managing to kill them all. It's one of those things that Myka is planning on never thinking about again, because whatever happened, they fixed it. Artie used his pocket watch Artifact, and they got the Warehouse back, and there's just no point in thinking about those few, short minutes when they were standing in ashes and Helena was gone. 

There's no point in thinking about it, because there are far more important things to worry about, like how using an Artifact they knew hardly anything about was maybe not the brightest decision, especially not one brought to Artie's attention by a megalomaniac former Agent who always had an ace up his sleeve.

So, the Warehouse is back, and H.G. along with it... but so is MacPherson. 

Cue Artie grumbling to himself, refusing to explain anything about anything, and taking off in a huff, God knows where. And that's not even getting into the whole business with Claudia and Steve.

Basically, the _Things Requiring Immediate Worrying_ list is getting kind of long and unruly. It's not that Myka doesn't understand that everything relating to MacPherson is _personal_ to Artie, but it's still kind of inconsiderate to just leave when things are the way they are. Claudia needs him, something needs to be done about Steve, and the last thing Myka needs is yet another person to worry about.

Or dinosaurs, for that matter. The existence of which is completely Pete's fault.

 

*

 

After everything, the Warehouse is in dire need of some order. Artie had put them all on inventory duty before taking off, basically leaving Myka to hold down the fort. It's possibly the worst time ever for Artie to go off on a personal crusade, but if he wants them to stay put and do inventory instead of helping, Myka will _inventory the hell_ out of the Warehouse.

If she gets a certain kind of enjoyment just from the organizing part of this, well, that's beside the point, and it doesn't make her boring or anything (shut up, Pete). Also, she's already finished all the items on the list on her clipboard - each one carefully checked with different colored permanent marker depending on type and location - long before the others are anywhere close to being done, so ha! Myka Bering wins again.

Pete, of course, is being Pete.

"I swear to God, Pete, if you lick that thing, you are on your own. If you end up with your face glued to it, I will leave you that way."

Pete freezes, mouth inches away from the Artifact in question - Sir Edmond Hillary's ice axe, if Myka's list is correct (which it is). "I wasn't gonna lick it."

She wouldn't have believed that even if she hadn't known him, which she _does_ , and he knows it. He may be a great agent, but when it comes to doing Warehouse inventory, he's worse than the dog. Adjusting the hard-hat on her head, Myka sighs. "Like you didn't lick the last two?"

"They smelled like fudge!"

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't touch them! And go put on your hard-hat, it's not voluntary."

Pete ignores the last bit. He doesn't even have his hat anymore; Myka knows for a fact he left it in the Head-Wear Aisle just to annoy her. 

(At least he didn't put on Napoleon's Tricorn this time.)

"Hey! You don't know when it's gonna save our lives to know that some Artifacts taste kinda like chicken. And others," - Pete makes a face - "kinda like that burrito you find in the back of the fridge and end up regretting you ate."

"And some," a voice says behind Myka, English accent easily giving its owner away, "actually taste somewhat like chocolate."

It's been two weeks, and the sound of her voice still catches Myka off-guard. She is not dead and she is not a hologram; sometimes Myka wants to reach out just to make sure she's real. 

(She doesn't, though. Boundaries and bad ideas and things like that.)

Turning around to face her, Myka can't help but return the smile Helena is directing at her. "Is that so?"

Helena's grin widens as she takes a step closer, smooth like a cat, and Myka is very pleased that at least someone is still wearing their hard-hat. It's a vital safety precaution, and it also makes Helena look—well, it's for safety, that's the important part.

"If anyone asks," Helena says, "you didn't hear it from me."

Myka leans against one of the shelves, pulling her clipboard against her chest, as she eyes her. "And how would you know about that?"

"Whoa," Pete says behind her. "I used to have one of these when I was a kid."

Helena's smile turns into a distractingly suggestive smirk. " _That_ is a story for another day."

Myka laughs, because it's obvious that H.G. is smiling like that _entirely_ on purpose. For a moment, she allows herself to not worry about Claudia, Artie and Steve, the state of the Warehouse, and all the terrible things that could have been.

"Pete," she says, still smiling at Helena, "don't touch it without your gloves."

But of course he does, and of course all hell breaks loose.

 

*

 

"Oh dear," H.G. says, staring up at the trees that seem to have sprung from nowhere. "What sort of Artifact could turn the Warehouse into a jungle?"

"It says 'M.C.' at the bottom, and--ouch!" Myka turns around to spot the small tin reptile in Pete's hand come to life, jumping out of his grip and escaping under the shelves. "It bit me!"

Much as she'd like to focus on the Artifact, there is something behind Pete that makes it hard to do anything but stare. "That," she says, blinking. "That looks like... a..."

Pete spins around, voicing the word she can't seem to get her lips to form. "If you were going to say 'dinosaur', I'd say, yep. And also _awesome_."

 

*

 

It's big. Or more like _giant_ , probably. The head of it is practically touching the Warehouse ceiling, which is nothing but completely insane.

If Michael Crichton had to go and make an Artifact, couldn't it at least have been from a book Myka had actually read? Preferably one featuring fewer gigantic prehistoric monsters. 

Claudia comes sprinting before Myka has even managed to process the idea of it, and once Pete has proclaimed himself the origin of all awesome, he is strutting up to the creature in question, stretching out his hand. "Oh my God, Pete!" she manages to get out. "Don't _touch_ it!"

Claudia is next, a tiny ball of energy half-jumping, half-running after Pete. "It's a Brontosaurus!" 

As if that's supposed to mean something to her. Realizing it's a lost cause, Myka crosses her arms to stop herself from going over there and tug both Pete and Claudia away. "Just, please be careful."

Claudia isn't wearing her hard-hat either, because apparently no one ever listens to Myka. Not that a hard-hat would make much difference in the case of crushing dinosaur accidents. 

If Pete's lack of judgment and Claudia's ill-advised enthusiasm aren't bad enough, Helena has moved closer to the creature too, petting one of its legs. She turns her head to smile at Myka, bright and delighted. "Myka, you simply must try this," she says, and really, how is Myka supposed to resist that?

Helena reaches her hand out towards her, and Myka takes a few reluctant steps closer, jolting slightly as her fingers brush against Helena's. When Helena brings Myka's hand up to rest on the leathery skin of the dinosaur's leg, she forgets to breathe for a moment. 

"Okay," she finally admits. "That is actually kind of... amazing."

The dinosaur - a 'Brontosaurus', if Claudia is to be believed - makes a noise that sounds vaguely like whale song, and Myka jumps back quickly when it starts moving, pulling H.G. with her to a safe distance. 

Claudia and Pete move away, too, looking up at the dinosaur with twin smiles. It's been too rare to see Claudia smile lately, and the Artifact might be worth it for that alone. 

Whatever happened with Steve - and Myka hates not knowing what Artifact Claudia used to bring him back, because how is she supposed to know what to expect if she doesn't even know that? - whatever happened, it made Steve leave, and Claudia has refused to talk to either of them about it.

Helena squeezes Myka's hand lightly, before letting go, and Myka casts a quick glance at her. She can't exactly fault Claudia for not wanting to talk about that day. But it isn't right that Steve is out there, on his own, with an Artifact. 

Artie has not exactly been forthcoming about what he plans on doing, or what Mrs. Frederic and the Regents think about it. There must be a plan for how to handle things like this, but if there is, no one has bothered to tell her.

Myka really, really hates being kept out of the loop.

There are, however, more important things at hand, like, for example, a Warehouse full of dinosaurs. They have to focus, assess the situation, and get the Artifact neutralized. "So these are movie dinosaurs?"

"In all their frog-DNA enriched glory," Pete says.

"I spared no expenses," Claudia adds, mock-serious.

Myka has no idea what they're talking about, but she can guess it's some kind of elaborate reference to the movie in question. "I never saw Jurassic Park," she says with a shrug. "And I never got around to reading the book."

Pete looks somewhat like he's having a seizure, and Claudia stares at her with the same mix of shock and disappointment that she had when Myka had mentioned that she didn't really care for Pink Floyd.

"You never...?" Pete starts, leaving the sentence unfinished, as if the idea is unthinkable.

Claudia continues: "How are you _alive_?"

Myka rolls her eyes at their obvious histrionics. She'd meant to read the book, really, but her to-read list has always been kind of long. If she'd known something like this would happen, she'd have made dinosaurs a priority.

"For what it's worth," H.G. says, head tilting slightly in Myka's direction, "I'm not familiar with this subject either."

Claudia and Pete look at each other, both shaking their heads. "I don't even know why we try," Claudia sighs.

"They're tragically lost to old age and... Myka-itis."

"Hey!" Myka says, leaning over to smack Pete on the shoulder. 

"Ha, ha, ha," Pete sing-songs, and jumps away before she can hit him again. "You didn't say the magic word, ha, ha, ha."

She is about to go after him, when Helena puts a light hand on her arm, beckoning her attention. "Interesting as this discussion is," she says, and though her eyes stray to Pete, her fingers linger against Myka's wrist. "It would appear we are being observed."

There's a rustling among the leaves to their side, and a Myka glimpses a reptile grin that looks anything but benign. "Please tell me that's another one of your nice, harmless dinosaurs," she says, backing away slowly.

She doesn't even need to look at Pete to know that it's not. "Let's just say it's not the vegetarian kind."

"You bred raptors," Claudia whispers, wide eyes trained on the dinosaur.

And then they run.

 

*

 

They end up hiding in a grove of trees, somewhere near the Dark Vault. It's hard to navigate when the Warehouse looks so different, all jungle-ified, but the Dark Vault still seems to be sealed off, thankfully.

"I think we got away," Myka says, when she's caught her breath. 

Taking off her hard-hat, she runs a hand through her hair, slightly damp with sweat from the whole running-for-their-lives thing. She'd thrown her clipboard at the dinosaur while they ran, whacking it right on the nose. It had seemed to deter it, and also served the point of proving to Pete once and for all just how useful clipboards could be. Now is not the time, but she will so get him to admit it later.

"Yeah," Pete replies with a sigh, looking kind of like he wants to turn around and go back to the flesh-eating raptors. 

It's pure luck that they managed to get away, though, and Myka doesn't like the idea of being a sitting duck. Her gun is locked up at the B&B, and she misses the weight of it now, the tension of the gun holster around her chest. After everything they've made it through, Myka absolutely refuses to let any _stupid_ Artifact dinosaurs hurt any of them. "We need to find weapons of some kind," she says. "If we can make it back to the office, we can get a Tesla. And let's call Artie."

Pete gives her a _look_. "And tell him we let dinosaurs loose in his Warehouse?"

Myka blinks. "Let's _not_ call Artie."

"Good plan."

Turning around, Myka scours the Artifacts on the shelves in front of her. Using Artifacts is a bad, bad idea, but given the choice between that and being eaten by dinosaurs, Myka is going to forgo her principles, just this once.

"Take this," she says, handing Pete an old-looking curling broom of undetermined origin ('warning: do not combine with curling stone (see item 937B)'). For herself, she grabs a hockey stick, that according to the sign had once belonged to a Maurice Richard and never missed ('side-effects include fits of anger with prolonged use') . 

"What am I going to do with this, sweep the dinosaurs away?"

"Or bash them over the head?"

Pete's face actually falls at that. "But they're dinosaurs. You can't hurt a dinosaur. That's like the law."

"Eat or be eaten, man." Myka experimentally swings the hockey stick in the air. "We need to find the Artifact as soon as possible. We'll cover more ground if we split up."

"It's a tiny dinosaur made of tin. How are we supposed to find it?"

"By looking _very carefully_."

"Oh. My. Unspecified Deity," Claudia says, interrupting the discussion before Myka has even had the chance to bring up the fact that Artie left her specifically in charge.

Claudia's outburst is followed by something that sounds suspiciously like cooing, and it takes Pete approximately half a second to abandon his curling broom and bounce over to Claudia, kneeling on the ground next to her.

"Please," Myka says, moving her hand up to rub her forehead, "tell me that's not what I think it is."

"Oh, they're infants!" Helena exclaims, joining the other two, and really, Myka had expected more from her.

"Guys. This is not a joke. We need to find the Artifact. Preferably before one of us gets eaten. Guys?"

Pete picks one of the things up from their nest, walking over to Myka and holding it up in front of her. It's small enough to fit in his hand, where it stretches its four legs, making a tiny peeping noise.   
"Ooh, check him out! I'm gonna name him Bob."

"Yes, it's a tiny dinosaur. I can see that."

Putting on the most _ridiculous_ baby voice, Pete says: "Look at wose wittle feet!"

The feet are, indeed, very small, and Myka is not made of stone. She grew up with _The Land Before Time_ just like Pete did. But there are more important things at stake. "Yes, fine," she snaps. "It's adorable. We still have to find the Artifact and neutralize it."

"Can I keep him?"

"No!"

"Myka Bering, taking the magic out of Artifacts since forever," Pete mutters, but he returns to Claudia without further arguing, putting the infant dinosaur back down in the nest. 

"Seriously, Pete. Think of all the other dinosaurs out there."

Pete's eyes narrows, and then he starts to smile in a way that's kind of ominous. "Claudia," he says, pulling her up to her feet and slinging an arm around her shoulders. "You know, I think Myka has a point. There's a _lot_ of other dinosaurs out there."

"There _is_ , isn't there?" Claudia smiles too, not even a little bit innocent, and oh God, they are going to get themselves eaten by dinosaurs.

Frowning, Myka fixes a stern glare at the both of them. "This is not some kind of dinosaur safari."

"Of course not." Grabbing Claudia by the arms, Pete pushes her between the trees, down the next aisle, calling, over his shoulder: "If you see any electrical fences, do _not_ try to climb them. And stay away from mysterious food buffets! They attract Raptors."

And then he and Claudia are make a turn past some trees, and disappear.

"Just the two of us, then," Helena says, smiling cheerfully. 

Myka grasps her hockey-stick a little harder.

 

*

 

The problem with dinosaurs is that so many of them seem to consider people a nice afternoon snack. They've barely searched through a handful of aisles before what looks like a flock (pride? herd? colony? pack? swarm?) of alligators on steroids chases them up a tree. 

They even manage to nibble on Myka's boots while she's climbing, very nearly chewing through the leather. Luckily, she still has the hockey stick, and even dinosaurs seem to be vulnerable to a good eye-poking.

And so now, she and Helena are sitting in a tree, and—that is most definitely a bad choice of words. Glancing over at Helena, perched further out on the branch, Myka chews on her lip.

Artie had taken off, keeping in contact only with random calls on the Farnsworth, and Mrs. Frederic is as mysteriously distant as ever. As frustrating it is to be kept in the dark, stalled and waiting, it means, at least, that Helena is still here. This grace period is temporary, she supposes - and eventually the Regents and Mr. Kosan will make the final decision. But what Helena did... well, Myka is just not going to let them take her away again, and that's final. 

On the ground, the dinosaurs are skulking off, in search of an easier meal, Myka presumes. "We can probably climb down now. They don't seem very persistent."

When Myka looks up again, Helena is eying her with an unreadable expression on her face. "You've been avoiding me."

"No, I haven't," Myka says quickly. Possibly a little too quickly, because Helena raises her eyebrows, and there is the smallest hint of hurt on her face. "I haven't," Myka says again, softer this time. "I'm just... getting used to having you back."

"It may only be temporary."

"Artie is letting you into the Warehouse. Doesn't get more permanent than that."

If Helena had wanted to say something more, she doesn't get the chance to. The Farnsworth in Myka's back pocket starts to buzz insistently, effectively ending the conversation. Flipping the Farnsworth opened, Myka is greeted by Claudia and Pete, shining eyes and huge smiles. 

"Are you guys all right?" she asks, because the ecstatic looks on their faces are making her worry that they've both been hit with something hard in the head.

" _If by 'all right' you mean 'AMAZE-BALLS'_ ," Claudia squeals over the Farnsworth. " _We saw a T-Rex! A mother-frakking, 64 million dollar question, I'm-your-father-Luke, kick-ass_ T-Rex _!_ "

"Oh my God! Are you sure you're okay?"

" _I am having a religious experience_."

Pete pushes his face in front of Claudia's, smiling like a five-year old. " _Myka, this is the best day of my life!_ "

"No, it's _not_. This is dangerous, please take it seriously."

Pete peers at her through the view-screen. " _Okay, could you put H.G. on, please?_ " Myka rolls her eyes, but tilts the Farnsworth in Helena's direction even so. " _Please make Myka see that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to hang with dinosaurs_."

"I'll do my best," Helena replies, smirking.

Turning the Farnsworth back to herself, Myka glares at Pete through the view-screen. "Okay, enough. No more running around, chasing T-Rexes. You two get over here now. We're close to the Madrid Section. Five minutes, Pete."

" _Make it so, Number One._ "

Pete gestures at Claudia, and Myka can hear her voice off-screen: " _Oh, you did not just Riker me._ "

" _Full speed ahead, Mr. Crusher._ "

"Not _an improvement, dude._ "

The screen goes dark. When Myka closes the Farnsworth, Helena tilts her head, looking at her with a small smile on her face. "You do have to agree that it is not every day one has the chance to interact with extinct creatures."

"Extinct creatures that want to kill us. Do you realize we've almost been eaten _twice_? I just got you back. I'm not going to let you just walk right into a dinosaur's mouth."

"I can assure you, I have no intention of letting that happen."

"Be careful, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

Myka chuckles, rubbing her neck. Then she turns serious, letting her gaze fall. "We should... talk. You know, when we're not in a tree and the Warehouse isn't full of dinosaurs."

Helena nods, the hint of a smile on her lips, and Myka finds herself studying the curve of her mouth. Back, before, she used to be willing to do anything to get a smile out of her, to pull her out of those sad moods that would sometimes seem to weigh her down. Not that she'd known, then, just how deep those dark thoughts went. Far beyond what a simple smile could fix.

Helena's smile widens, and, realizing that's been staring at her mouth, Myka looks up quickly.

"I'm going to kiss you now," Helena says, and then she does.

 

*

 

So maybe they've been moving towards this for a long time, and maybe it took her a kind of ridiculously long time to figure that out. 

But the thing is, it's easy to forgive a hologram, or someone who's out of sight, if not out of mind. Now that Helena is back for real - _for real_ , and she still can't believe it sometimes - it all seems very complicated. 

Later that awful day, they'd gone back to the B&B, and Myka had taken a shower, washing ashes from her hair and trying hard not to think about the ashes of what, or whom. She'd spent a long time coming to terms with having Helena hold a gun to her forehead, and even longer learning how to trust herself again. And now, every time every time Myka looks at her face, all she sees is Helena standing on the other side of the barrier, looking _so happy_ even though she's about to die.

It's soft and tender, barely even a kiss at all, and then it's over. 

"Helena," she starts, and when she looks at Helena, she forgets for a moment what she wanted to say.

It had been stupid and rash to use an Artifact they knew hardly anything about, especially one that had been in MacPherson's possession. But she'd let Artie do it a hundred times over again, no matter the consequences, and that's _wrong_. Artifacts are not for personal gain. How can she fault Claudia for what she did, bringing back Steve, when she'd got Helena back the same way? 

"This isn't..." Myka holds Helena's gaze, pleading with her to understand. "I can't do this."

"All right," Helena says, and her face is so full of tenderness and understanding that Myka can't stop herself from leaning closer again; pulled in by gravity. 

The hockey stick is uncomfortably pressed between them, clutched in her hands, and Helena's thumb is rubbing circles on her arm. _Helena_ and her mouth, warm and wet; lips, tongue, teeth clashing against Myka's when she surges forward, seeking _more_. It is, in fact, ridiculous to be doing this in a tree, of all places, but apparently there are parts of her body that are unconcerned with things like that. She is already out of breath, nerves and probably a fair share of good old-fashioned lust (Helena would probably call it _debauchery_ or something equally ridiculous, and imagining her saying things like that _isn't helping_ ) making her flush all over.

Helena has always had a particular talent for turning everything in Myka's life upside down.

One of her hands comes up to tangle in Helena's hair, holding her closer, when the sound of voices on the ground makes Myka tear herself abruptly away.

"Guys!" Pete calls again. "Are you up there?"

"Just a minute!" Myka shouts back, licking her lips and looking anywhere but at Helena.

Really, things were complicated enough _without_ dinosaurs in the Warehouse.

 

*

 

"And also, also," - Claudia makes a little skip-jump next to Myka - "there was a Triceratops by the Escher Vault. And did I mention the T-Rex?"

"Just a few times."

"'Staying cool while facing a T-Rex' is going to look awesome on my resume! If I had a resume."

"And if it wasn't classified information."

"Details!"

Pete and Helena have trailed behind, and Myka shoots a look back at them. Letting those two scheme together is rarely a good idea. Especially not now, when Helena's lips still look redder than usual, and Myka's cheeks feel kind of uncomfortably warm. If Pete has any vibes about it, she's gonna hit him for spying with his intuition, which is _not okay_.

Anyway, she's going to handle this the way she handles everything else related to Helena being gone and then not gone, namely by filing it all away and not thinking about it, not even a little bit. It's not like there's a lack of other things to worry about. Things that absolutely, definitely need worrying about, and not just to take her mind off... things.

Determined to do just that, Myka turns back to Claudia. "It's nice to see you smile."

Just like that, the smile is gone. Claudia jams her hands into the pockets of her jeans, hunching her shoulders forward. "Well, y'know. _Dinosaurs_."

They lapse into silence, then. Myka wants to ask about Steve, and the Artifact she used, and what was she _thinking_? But that line of questioning hasn't exactly led to anything more than tight-lipped stubbornness and slammed doors in the past two weeks.

Pete is so much better at this than she is. She never seems to know what to say to get through to Claudia, usually ending up pushing and tugging, instead of being the shoulder she wants to be. If only Claudia would just tell her what really happened. 

"Holy brain cogs, Batman," Claudia mutters. "If you worry any louder you're going to start to creak."

"Of course I'm worried. What you did was really dangerous."

Claudia doesn't respond to that, shrugging her shoulders further forward, lower lip sticking out in a pout. It makes her look stubborn and very young. 

They walk another few steps in silence, but Claudia stops abruptly when her Farnsworth starts to buzz. Taking it out of her back pocket, she stares at it, eyes comically wide. "Oh, no," she says, looking up at Pete when he catches up with them. "Guys. It's gotta be Artie. What do I do?!"

"Just don't mention dinosaurs," Pete whispers.

Flipping the Farnsworth open, Claudia puts on an entirely fake smile. "Heeeey, Artimus!"

" _Claudia._ " Artie's voice sounds metallic through the Farnsworth, and there's a pause, during which Myka can imagine he's pushing his face closer to the view-screen, because Claudia noticeably shrinks back. " _What's that? That, that, that_ thing _you're doing with your face?_ "

"What thing? Oh, Artie, I know you're getting old and all, but are you forgetting what my face looks like?"

" _Is that a tree?_ "

"Okay-gotta-go-bye." Claudia slams her Farnsworth closed, looking up, horror plain on her face. "...I panicked. You think he noticed?"

"I think they noticed it on _Mars_ ," Pete says, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "I believe the phrase is 'T-Rex in a china store', which, _by the way_ , did you tell Mykasaurus about the T-Rex? It was all _RAWR_ ," – Pete makes claws with his hands in Myka's direction, biting into the air – "and dude, what a breath."

"Wow," Myka says, crossing her arms. "Something you have in common."

Pete grins. "That and the chiseled cheekbones."

 

*

 

"Now, let's see," Pete says, putting a finger on his chin. "Where would I go, if I was a small, tin dinosaur?"

Claudia shoots him a somewhat skeptical look. "You guys do realize how big the Warehouse is?"

"It's an Artifact," Myka replies. "There's gotta be some pattern to it."

They're doubling back, returning to the scene of the crime ( _Pete's_ crime, thankyouverymuch). The truth is, Myka has no idea how to find the Artifact in question, but she happens to be very good at being thorough. 

Almost back to where the Artifact was first activated, they spot a small-ish dinosaur, in the midst of chewing something that looks very familiar. Stopping abruptly, Myka's mouth falls open. "Hey, that's my clipboard!"

The _gall_ of it.

Thrusting her hockey stick into Helena's arms, she runs over, snatching the clipboard away from the dinosaur. It snaps its teeth after her, tilting its head, and though it's small, it looks pretty mean-spirited up close. 

It makes a strange, clucking sound, and then, suddenly, unfolds a big, leathery frill around its neck. 

"Watch out, Myka!" Pete calls, and Myka just barely has the time to raise the clipboard like a shield in front of her face, before the dinosaur spits out a gooey mess of saliva in her direction. 

"Ew, ew, ew!" she says, smacking the dinosaur over the head with the clipboard, because _ew_ , seriously. It's one thing that dinosaurs want to eat them, but dinosaur spit is just not okay.

Running to her side, Pete swings his curling broom. "It's a Dilophosaurus, they spit venom!"

Myka shoots Pete a glare, as she whacks the dinosaur on the nose again, because 1) _who even knows that_ , and 2) "I kind of noticed!"

"Why are you hitting it with a clipboard, what good is that going to do?!"

"I don't know, I'm trying not to die!"

Pete thwacks his curling broom up in the dinosaur's face, and the dinosaur gives a sudden shriek, and bolts out of there. 

Myka watches it go, breathing heavily. When it disappears among the trees, she shakes the clipboard, trying to get the dinosaur spit off. It's looking very likely that she'll have to get a new one. Apparently it was not made with venomous dinosaur saliva in mind.

"Hell yeah," Pete says, flourishing his curling broom like a sword, "Pete and Myka save the day, clipboard-broomstick style."

"Uh, guys!" Claudia yells, and _of course_ the universe can't allow them one small moment of triumph before throwing another metaphorical dinosaur at them. 

Or not so metaphorical, as it were. The dinosaur that had chased them before - the one with the menacing grin - has apparently found a friend, and now there are two of them, looking at them with far too intelligent eyes.

Before they even realize what's happening, the two dinosaurs have them cornered. Even armed, as they are, with hockey stick, curling broom and clipboard, things are starting to look very bleak.

Beside her, Helena nudges the back of her hand against Myka's. "This would be a suitable time for divine intervention."

"I think I'm going to take my chances with my clipboard."

One of the raptors moves in closer, the other remaining a few steps behind, and there is real awe in Pete's voice when he speaks. "Look at that. _Clever girl_."

"No, bad girl! Bad girl!"

"But look at them! Doesn't it just blow your mind?"

Myka stares at the raptors in front of them, creepy grins and a set of far too many, far too sharp teeth. "Pete, they're about to _eat us_!"

"I know. Best. Day. Ever."

And then, the dinosaurs, and all the trees around them, fizzle like static, and disappear. 

Further down the corridor stands Leena, like the greatest, most well-timed deus-ex-machina in the history of the Warehouse, holding a neutralizing bag. "I don't think Artie would be very happy," she says blithely, "to find you _playing_ with the Artifacts."

"Oh my God, Leena!" Claudia yelps, rushing forward. Chaos ensues, as Claudia and Pete sort of hug-attack Leena, and Myka joins in on their impromptu hug fest a few seconds later. Leena laughs, gracefully letting herself be embraced from all directions. 

Myka looks back to find Helena standing a little further away, smiling, but looking otherwise like this was nothing but an ordinary day at work. To be fair - Artifact gone wild, strange things that wanted to kill them - it sort of was an ordinary day a work. 

"Hey, so," Pete says into Leena's hair, "Artie doesn't need to know about this, right? Everything is back to normal again. Only minimal dinosaur damage."

Leena pats him on the back. "Good luck with that."

 

*

 

Back at the B&B, Leena makes them dinner (being chased by dinosaurs does wonders for the appetite), and afterward, Myka puts on her reading glasses and a blanket, and curls up on her bed with a book that _definitely_ doesn't contain dinosaurs.

The chances of her ever reading Jurassic Park now are pretty much non-existent.

The sun has set, Claudia's door is closed, and from Pete's room across the hall, Myka can hear faint crashing noises, as well as the occasional shout of " _whoop!_ ", " _not the triple red shells!_ " and " _I am the Master of the Universe, bow before my superior speed, Bowser!_ ").

She's not expecting company, and when Helena peeks in through the open door, dressed in a loose shirt tucked into black pants, she is momentarily tongue-tied.

Helena must have showered, because her hair is still wet, pushed behind her ears. "I bring a message from Claudia," she says, lingering in the doorway. "'Stop worrying'. She offered to write it on her forehead, but I convinced her that verbal communication would be sufficient."

Myka sighs, reaching up to remove her glasses. "Well, I wouldn't have to worry if she actually talked to me."

Abandoning her spot in the doorway, Helena saunters across the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft and low. "Disappointing you is... a painful thing."

Taken aback, Myka frowns. "What do you mean?"

"It would be easier if you responded with anger. Your disappointment is infinitely harder to bear."

"Claudia hasn't done anything to disappoint me. I would never want her to think that."

Helena tilts her head. "She used an Artifact. A dangerous one. I don't believe you understand the sort of desperation that spurs such an action."

For a long moment, they're both silent. She hadn't thought that far before, that Helena would understand exactly what it means to be prepared to risk everything to bring back someone she loved. All the things she's said, and the things she's not, and Myka suddenly feels monumentally stupid. "Does she talk to you about it?" she asks, and Helena shakes her head slightly.

"No. But I believe you should trust her when she tells you not to be concerned. She is a very capable girl."

"I know she is, but it's just--" Myka stops herself, taking a breath as Helena starts to smile. "Okay. I guess you're right. I'll... try. I will."

"Meanwhile," Helena says, face sobering. "The dinosaurs are gone, and you did say you wished to 'talk'."

She looks mildly terrified at the prospect, which actually happens to be exactly how Myka feels about it too. Sometime during the last year – the last strange, _long_ , painful year – she healed from something she never thought she'd move past. In the Sanctum, she had put her life in Helena's hands, and there had never been even the slightest bit of doubt that she'd save her. But it's so much harder now, when no one's life is in danger and Helena is down the hall, or on the other side of the dinner table, or in the basement with Claudia, taking things apart and putting them back together into something new. 

Maybe once she would have jumped in, head first, but she's not that person anymore.

"You know, that talk?" Myka glances at Helena, moving her hand to rest next to Helena's. "There's not really any rush."

"No?" Helena says, looking disappointed and relieved all at once. 

It's an outstandingly cowardly way out, but the idea of having an actual, out-loud conversation about all those things that need to be talked about suddenly seem like the absolute last thing she wants to do. Not when she can't stop picturing that _stupid_ look on Helena's face right before the bomb went off, the one that makes her want to put her arms around her and never let go, and also yell at her a lot and stay away forever. 

Mostly it just takes away her breath completely.

"I think talking is probably better left for a day when I don't have dinosaur spit stuck in my hair."

Helena's little finger brushes against Myka's, and she's pretty sure that talking is overrated, anyway.


End file.
